It’s a not only a new week, but a new season, which means it’s the perfect time to shake off any negativity that might be hovering around.

I’ve talked before about life getting in the way of things. Well last week, it happened again.

It all started off OK, but quickly deteriorated into one of those weeks. The odd thing is I can’t even say what triggered the decline. All know is I felt like I was being pulled in a hundred different directions at the same time and there weren’t enough hours in the day for everything I had to do, let alone the stuff I wanted to do.

By Friday, I had the deer-in-the-headlights thing going on, and I just couldn’t talk myself into my happy place.

I only did half of my cross training, which didn’t help matters any. I felt like a total a loser, actually, with my mental radio alternating between “Mama Said There’d Be Days Like This,” and the litany of items on my never-ending to-do-list — all of them for others.

It wasn’t even a cool voice reading the list. Had I been hearing Sir Anthony Hopkins or James Earl Jones or Sam Elliot or Hugh Laurie in my head, I might not have been so cranky. (I could listen to any one of them all day, even if they are telling me what I should be doing.)

My brain paralyzed but not even remotely quiet, I went to bed. Didn’t sleep at all well, natch. (OK, I so shouldn’t try to use the “hip lingo” should I?)

I woke up at 4 a.m. Saturday, fully intending to meet a group of ladies for a 5-mile training walk. But — of course there’s a but — my right eye was swollen closed and I was still in a rather ferocious mood. (Maybe I didn’t want to be mistaken for pregnant again?) So, I bailed, soaked my eye with water as hot as I could stand it and went back to bed. My apologies, ladies!

Things weren’t much better when I got up again a few hours later for another eye soaking. Still, I forced myself to do my 3-mile DVD before heading off to work. Yes, I had to go to work.

On my way over to my parents house that night, I perked up a bit and put on a smile for an early Father’s Day dinner. Despite an excellent meal and consuming a little more than my share of lovely wine and Disaronno (possibly the best liqueur ever), the slightly better mood didn’t stick.

A two-word email from Meanie — after a few weeks of radio silence — just added fuel to the fire.

“Still ‘walking’?”

Delete.

I decided to let the funk, for lack of a better word, run its course. Sometimes you just have to do that. After some therapeutic slamming of doors, ranting and throwing things (Does any of that count as cross training?), whatever demons had me in their grip eased their hold.  A bit.

No need to get out the violin or serve up a plate of cheese. I am fully aware of how whiny this sounds, especially when I think about what others go through on a daily basis. But everybody is allowed a rough patch, right? I guess I’ve been bottling up some stress, so I’m just trying to get it out of my system with minimal casualties. (The cat watched the show that was my mini meltdown how from a safe distance.)

In between bouts of work on Sunday, I did my 3-mile DVD again and even tossed in a little more semi-violent therapy for kicks. (I so should have been playing Wii Tennis or Boxing. Cross training! I’ll have to remember that for next time, ’cause there’s always a next time.)

Later that night — at about 10 p.m. — I did the 2-mile DVD, just so I could say I got in my mileage for the week. That felt like progress. Take that, funk!

Getting back on a somewhat even keel, my mom and I talked it through … a couple of times. She has had her own “stuff” going on, and came up with something that made sense.

Maybe this “bad stuff” we’re experiencing happens so we can see just how good we really have it. Leave it to Mom.

Perspective check.

I have a job. I have a house. I have a car. I have a family that loves me. I have a cat who tolerates me (mostly). Oh yeah, and my boobs aren’t trying to kill me. (My legs, however, are another story. They’re plotting something. I can feel it.)

So, here we are on the first day of summer.

My ginormous to-do list is no shorter. (Quite the opposite.) My house is no cleaner. (Ditto.) My thank-you notes still are not written. (Ack!)

And yet, things seem to be sort of OK. While still a little blah for whatever reason — I guess it just happens sometimes — I feel like I can shake off last week and get a grip on my life.

We all have those days. How do you deal with them?

All I can say now is new week, new season.

Let summer begin!